


The Christmas (Bucket) List

by maybejustcreation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybejustcreation/pseuds/maybejustcreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay. So. I made a list. Like, a bucket list. For Christmas.”</p><p>“A Christmas bucket list?” Castiel smiles.</p><p>“You know, stuff we’ll do this week. As the Ultimate Christmas Experience.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [binni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/binni/gifts).



> Written for the 2012 Dean/Cas Secret Santa exchange! 
> 
> Brief mentions of Sam/Jess and Jo/Victor as background pairings. Warning for mentions of drinking.
> 
> Many thanks to my handful of great, trusty betas, who all did quick and thorough jobs; and very best holiday wishes to my recipient! <3

Dean takes a deep breath and steadies his hand. Then he wipes it on his jeans and tries it again, because this is important. He closes his eyes and dips his fingers in slowly. Carefully, he crooks a finger and when something brushes against it, relaxes his palm. It settles in the centre of his hand, and after a pause, Dean rejects it, taking his hand out and starting the whole process all over. 

"Hurry up, Dean."

"Don't rush me," Dean says, glaring at Sam. "I am letting the Christmas spirit be my guide." 

"You're picking a piece of paper with a name on it out of a hat."

"You're such a Scrooge, Sam."

"And you're Bob Cratchit? Get your hand out of the hat, you're fired."

Dean seizes a slip of paper, triumphant. Sam, Cas, Jo, Victor, and Jess all do the same thing, in a much quicker fashion. They all inspect the names on their pieces of paper like a pirate with a gold coin—then it’s ripped up, shoved it a pocket, tossed in the trash. Dean keeps his. He likes to save the surprise for later. He’s hoping for Sam again, though, because he already has a dozen gag gifts in mind. The rest are a little harder to shop for, even if they are doing the college (read: dirt ass cheap) version of Christmas. You never know if you’ll hit a little too close to home. Last year, Victor got Dean, whose gift was a pair of pink, satin panties as a joke. For future reference, alcohol and the subject of your secretly enjoyed gag gift are not two things that go together.

“Okay,” Sam says. “The Christmas exchange is gonna go a little different this year, and that mostly has to do with the fact that life’s hard as a college kid, and we’ve all got exams until the twenty-third.”

A collection of groans and sighs go around the room at the reminder. 

“Yeah, I know. It sucks. But the goal here is to make our last week together suck a little less. So we’re gonna go the Secret Santa meets twelve days of Christmas route. Only it won’t be secret, and it’ll be a week instead of twelve days, or our usual one day.”

Dean perks up at this. A week means seven times the golden opportunity for tongue-in-cheek prank gifts. 

“Did you just render your own comparison useless?” Jess interrupts. There’s a fondness to her tone and the smile that follows, but Sam rolls his eyes anyway. 

“Nothing over twenty bucks,” he continues. “Because we’re all unemployed suckers--”

“Not me,” Jo chimes in.

“Or me,” Victor adds.

“Except for Jo Harvelle and Victor Henriksen, who, as it happens, have secured employment status at the campus coffee shop and yet refuse to provide desperately needed caffeine to their friends, like the assholes they are.”

“We provide upon payment,” Victor says.

“You provide upon sending us to the poorhouse,” Cas says back, and Sam grins.

“Anyway,” Sam continues. “as I was saying—nothing over twenty, nothing under five. You have a week to make someone a victim and true example of the effects of Christmas spirit. No bailing. No breaking the rules. Does anyone want to trade?”

Jo looks like she’s about to say something, then stops. No one else pipes up.

“Cool,” Sam says. “Who has me, by the way?”

“Over here,” Jess raises her hand.

“Thank God.” Sam is visibly relieved. “I love you, babe.”

Damn. There goes Dean’s week-long prankfest. He takes his slip of paper out of his pocket. Maybe he’ll get Victor and have a chance to get him back for the underwear thing. Dean uncrumples it.

He’s got Cas.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean Winchester is a blunt sort of person. He also aims to please. Sometimes the two don’t mesh. Sometimes, they do.

“Cas,” he says, strolling into his dorm room after his three-to-five Lit class. “What do you want for poor Christmas?”

“Um.” Castiel doesn’t look up from his computer screen, busied with what looks to be a rather impressive game of Minesweeper. “I don’t know. Whatever.”

And that’s good enough for Dean, because it means less effort. And less effort is good. So Dean turns around with a hand already on the door, except then Cas adds, “My family isn’t super religious or anything. We’re pretty quiet. We don’t really do Christmas.”

Dean pauses, catching himself. Duh. Not everyone does Christmas. “Oh, that’s cool. But you guys get together, right?”

“Not really. It’s sort of like another day?”

“No, I know. Not everyone does Christmas. But you do something, right? Like I don’t know. Something that quantifies the holiday season as holiday.”

“Nah. It’s just a season.” 

The wheels in Dean’s head are whirring so hard in an attempt to understand that he swears it's audible. Cas’ computer announces his lost battle against Minesweeper. A tree outside the dorm room window claws unhappily at the glass. Dean lets go of the door and it clicks curtly shut. It’s three easy strides to Cas’ bed, which promptly catches Dean in his long, downward spiral to comprehension. The entire world is in protest. Spring, summer, autumn and winter are just seasons. The holidays? Not just a season. 

“So, run it by me again. What do you do for the holidays?”

“Study. Sleep. Nothing,” Castiel offers carefully, looking confused.. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just--struggling,” Dean breathes. The wheels stop turning. Something clicks. “Wait.”

“What’s up?”

“I have an idea,” Dean says. And then he’s out the door.

“Think it through!’ Castiel calls after him. 

Dean makes a mental note to find out why his friends seem to have developed a habit of telling him that.  


\----

“So, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dean starts. “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, just say. And if it’s too intense, we can slow down and just do one thing at a time. Or if you want to do some things, but not other stuff, that’s cool, too.”

“Are you talking about sex?” Castiel asks slowly, sporting a shade of pink. “Because I--”

“Wait. What? No, hold on,” Dean says, trying again. “Okay. So. I made a list. Like, a bucket list. For Christmas.”

“A Christmas bucket list?” Castiel smiles.

“You know, stuff we’ll do this week. As the Ultimate Christmas Experience.”

“What’s on the list?” 

“Well, so far, we have getting gifts--”

“I like where this is going.”

“And giving gifts--”

“And there’s the rub,” Cas laughs. “Sounds like your standard Christmas package.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, hand to the back of his neck. He waits for more words to materialize. Instead, a blush prickles across his face. 

If he notices, Castiel doesn’t mention it. “So where do we start?”

 

The problem, Dean realizes soon after, is that his list is a little sparse. Or to put it bluntly: how the hell is he supposed to spread the giving and receiving of gifts over the course of a week? He could just give and get a present for the whole seven days. But that’s boring. And also makes Cas get him a handful of presents for his own exchange gift, which defeats the whole purpose. 

So he figures he might as well just call the whole thing off. Not the exchange, just the stupid list thing. Except that Cas calls him later. 

“Hey,” Castiel says when Dean picks up. “ I added stuff to the list. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean smiles. “That's okay. So where do we start?”

“Don’t laugh.”  


  


They get to the mall at 8AM on a Sunday, and that’s still not early enough. The line’s not as bad as Dean expected, though, and definitely not as bad as the horror stories Cas has heard about. Sure enough, not long into their wait, a string of elves appear, and then a round and jolly looking man suited in red velvet. The white beard and glasses look to be his own. There’s a “ho ho ho!” tossed into the crowd of children and their mothers, then a swell of claps and cheering. Castiel can’t help it. He’s excited. That is, until it’s their turn to be behind the golden throne of Claus. Then he’s thinking maybe this early morning trip wasn’t worth it.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, as they quickly follow an elf’s lead.

“Do I look not okay?” Castiel answers.

“You look like you might throw up.” 

“Cameras make me nervous. This was my idea to put on the list. I knew Santa pictures were overrated. I maybe didn’t think this one through,” Cas admits.

“Hey, relax,” Dean says, moving in closer to Castiel, hand rubbing circles at his back. Cas relaxes enough to pick up on the touch and the scent of Dean’s cologne at the same time. His breathing slows a little. “I’ve done this a million times. It’s no big deal. Just look into the camera.”

Castiel looks. 

“That guy’s gonna count down from three,” Dean tells him as the photographer does, “and you’re gonna smile--”

Cas smiles, acutely aware of Dean’s smile so close to his. 

“And we’re done,” Dean announces, nodding thanks at the photographer and leading them down the steps. Santa waves goodbye to them. Cas waves back, picture in hand. 

Which, by the way, was so worth it.

\----

The next item on the list is one Dean is sure Cas has put thought into. Lots of cruel, torturous thought. You don’t write something down that lands the both of them in the bitter cold on a grey Monday afternoon without prior consideration. Especially not if it means they have to spend it with a group of ten other students on campus walking around from dorm to dorm. Singing. 

"I can't believe we're doing this."

"You said I should get the full Christmas experience," Castiel points out, rubbing his hands together then deciding to shove them in his pockets. They shuffle after the group, making their way to the dorms of Oakam Hall. They just did an magnificently horrific rendition of Silent Night. By they, Dean mostly means himself, and he’s definitely not looking forward to a repeat. 

"I didn't mean carolling!" Dean blinks up at the sky. There’s snow. Snow is falling right now and they’re outside in it. On a Monday. Singing.

"Carolling's a Christmas thing!"

"No. Carolling is the bad gift you should return. Carolling is coal in your stocking. Carolling is fruit cake instead of yule log."

"Don't know the words, huh?" Castiel’s eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Like I'm supposed to?” Dean huffs. “This is like, Expert level carolling. Who knows the words to Gloria in excelsis deo?"

"I do,” Cas says, reaching to brush the snow out of Dean’s hair.

"Of course you do.” Dean he smiles in spite of himself. 

\----

  
“I think I made a mistake,” Dean says, peering into the oven. They are doing number four on the Christmas bucket list. This one was Cas’ idea, and that might have to do with the fact that even if Dean thought of making Christmas cookies, he normally wouldn’t allow such thoughts to follow through to action. So far, nothing looks the delicious golden-brown the recipe promised, so that should mean time’s not up yet, but he could swear he smelled something burning.

“What kind of mistake?” Castiel asks, rinsing the last of the dough away at the sink. There are soap bubbles at his sleeve. It’s all very domestic, Dean thinks, and then he doesn’t think about it anymore. 

“Um.” The burning smell is more apparent now. “Well, first and foremost in my incorrect thinking that any attempt I make in any form of food preparation will result in the safe consumption of said prepared food. But also and more specifically--remember when I said we could just combine everything together to make one giant Christmas cookie? Yeah. I don’t think that’s true.”

It’s not true. They eat it anyway, and no one even throws up. After, Dean thinks about watching Cas lick smears of chocolate off his fingers. And then he doesn’t think about it anymore. 

Or at least, he tries not to.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days flurry by, and Dean isn’t sure if it’s because they’re working away at the list or working away at studying for finals. A couple times, Cas stops by his room to ask if they can put this thing on the list, or maybe that thing on the list, and Dean always says sure. Castiel, in return, pauses just long enough for it to be noticeable before saying thanks. 

Dean, in turn, spends the next half hour thinking he’s on his way to answering the importance of setting in Sinclair Ross’ novels but is actually nowhere in answering that. He’s also nowhere in answering what the hell Cas means every time he does that pause thing and nowhere in answering why Dean wants to know so bad in the first place. By Friday, Dean decides it’s maybe time to stop wondering and more time to start figuring it out.

Only there’s still a lot left to do on Friday, and that includes writing his last final, and doing the little annual shindig they all do as a goodbye Christmas party. This year’s party is way easier to plan than last year’s since they don’t really have to worry about space. Usually, partying goes down in Sam and Dean’s dorm room, but they manage to score the common room since no one’s really around, save for enough people on their floor to come so that it won’t just be the six of them.. As for any RA’s and professors roaming the halls, it’s been long past the due date of caring. So, Dean elists Castiel’s help to put up a few festive decorations, selecting the finest ugly Christmas sweaters as required attire and grabbing supplies needed for a super spiked eggnog bowl--crossing those items off the bucket list at that. 

A shower and a few hours later, eight o’clock rolls around and Dean finds himself trapped between his meddling friends and a common room couch with some questionable stains on it. 

“So, we’ve barely seen you all week,” Jess mentions, between bites of a Rudolphed sugar cookie. Apparently, Victor is the real baker of the group, which suits Dean just fine. 

“You know, Christmas exchange and finals,” Dean answers with a shrug. “Plus, I think you might be exaggerating. I see you guys pretty much every meal.”

“Well, we all have to break to eat,” Victor says.”But you haven’t been around to hang out. I asked you if you wanted to chill from finals, like, three times this week, and you always ditched. What’s up with that?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “How come you’re always with Cas when we call?”

“What is this, like an intervention?” Dean snaps. “I’m just making sure the guy has a decent Christmas, okay? I thought that was the whole point of this week. And if you’re all being so nosy about it, you might want to take a second to note that Jo isn’t here. And Cas isn’t either. You wanna ask questions about something, ask about that.”

They leave him alone about it after that, but the three of them share some sort of secret look between them and it makes Dean suspicious. He takes his eggnog back to his room and cracks open his window. He needs some air and maybe some thinking time. Somewhere between three drinks, and a trip to the bathroom, Dean comes to the conclusion that there’s such a thing as overthinking something and decides against it so he can rejoin the party. He’s halfway there when he sees Cas and Jo coming down the hall, arms linked together. Which normally wouldn’t mean anything, since they’re all friends--

“I’m so glad you told me,” Jo laughs. “I had no idea.”

Castiel laughs back, and Dean isn’t angry. And Dean isn’t jealous. 

But he’s not in the mood for a party after all. 

\----

  
Dean also doesn’t seem to be in the mood breakfast the next morning, especially not when he heads down and sees Cas waiting at their usual table, alone. Like he’s saving the seat for another person.

So, Dean skips breakfast. Because sure, he could walk over to Castiel and ask, _Hey, it wasn’t just me, right? We almost had a thing going, right?_

He could. He so could, and it would be really easy just to do that. The hard part is hearing Cas’ answer, and knowing the very real possibility of it being not the one Dean wants to hear, followed by Dean’s feeling humiliated, Castiel apologizing, Dean insisting there’s nothing to apologize for. The whole mess. Just over breakfast. 

So really, you can’t blame him. And if you can, who asked you, anyway?


	4. Chapter 4

“Why are you being such an asshole to Cas?” Jo says, as soon as Dean opens his door. 

“Um. Okay. That’s one way to greet a person.”

“I’m serious. You’ve been ignoring the both of us since yesterday. Cas says he saved a spot for you at breakfast this morning and you totally shafted him. What the hell is your problem?”

“This is kind of out of nowhere--” Dean starts. 

“Really? Because here’s what’s out of nowhere to me. You and Cas have a great week, you guys do lots of great things together. You're with him _all the time_. Then, yesterday, some mysterious thing happens. You ditch the party, and now you’re ignoring us. That’s out of nowhere.”

“Maybe it would be, only you’re forgetting the thing about you two getting together at some point in the middle of our supposed great week. Can that be out of nowhere? Because it seems like that to me.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Oh, no. Wheels are turning. 

“You mean, you’re not--?” Dean asks. 

“No,” Jo answers immediately. “I got you for the exchange, asshole. I was just asking him what he thought you might want because I have two days left to punch some Christmas spirit into you, and that he would probably know, since you guys have been hanging out so much. And actually, if you’re asking, Victor and I are--” 

Something clicks. Something clicks loudly and guiltily.

“Cool," Dean says quickly. "Sorry. I need to go fix something.” 

“Think it through next time!” Jo calls after him. Dean makes a mental note to remember why his friends have developed a habit of telling him that. 

\---- 

  
Castiel doesn’t seem to be in his room on account of his not answering when Dean knocks, so Dean just checks Jess’ room, Jo’s room and Victor’s room first, as quickly as possible. Which, for the record, isn’t very quick because that’s a lot of rooms. By the time Dean heads back to his own room, he’s more than a little out of breath, as well as being more than a little disheartened.

“Hey,” Sam says when he unlocks the door. “Cas was looking for you. You just missed--”

“What?” Dean breathes, but is already bolting out the door again before Sam can answer. “ _Seriously_?” 

After fifteen seconds of waiting for the elevator, Dean decides it's taking too long and goes for the stairs. On the way down the third of five flights, he considers that it would possibly be wise to know at least some of what he wants to say because _I heard you weren't dating Jo. We should date now_ doesn't sound like the kind of thing he's really going for. Halfway down the fourth flight of stairs, Dean thinks he's got most of it down and promptly forgets it as soon as he turns into the hall and spots Castiel just as it looks like the guy's about to leave his room again. _To look for me_ , Dean realizes, and then there's a flutter somewhere in his chest that's reacting either to his lungs maybe about to flop on him or the way Cas looks so relieved as soon as he sees him.

“Dean--”

“Cas, hey. Let me just talk for a second, okay? Because I just ran like pretty much a million miles looking for you, and apparently you were looking for me the whole time, too, which sucks for both of us because running sucks. But also because I’ve been thinking, and what I think, maybe, is I have no idea what the hell you think. And that scares the shit out of me. So, it’d be really cool if you could just tell me what you think, and I could tell you what I think, because maybe we think the same thing. Because I’m--I--” Dean tries, and then he runs out of words or needs to catch his breath. 

If he thinks about it, it’s probably both. He looks at Cas in what he’s sure comes off as a little too much like desperation, and is grateful when Cas’ features soften despite that. 

“Me too,” Castiel says, and that’s all he says, and Dean is grateful for that too because it means he has less to process before Cas takes two steps into Dean's personal space and one step back; a small, hesitant thing, like he's not sure if it's okay. 

Faintly, Dean thinks that if this was a Christmas movie, Cas would be a lot shorter, so he'd have to look up at Dean. Then, as movies go, Dean would probably take Cas' face into his hands. And after a pause, they would lean in until the distance closed between them and everything would be soft and sweet and fade seamlessly into the end credits. Just beforehand, Dean would pick Castiel up, and Cas would lock himself around Dean and they would kiss. 

"Cas," Dean breathes, a little qucker than he wants, and it almost sounds like a question. Castiel nods, just so, like it's a subconscious answer, and when Dean leans in, Cas surprises him by taking a fistful of his shirt in hand and tugging. Castiel kisses like he's claiming, more urgently and dirtier than Dean expected, and it's only at the bump of Dean's nose against his; a soft, teasing laugh, that he slows down. Dean kisses like he's trying to draw this whole moment, like he's afraid that if he blinks, he'll miss it. It's just a second before Castiel catches on, and then his hands are warm around Dean's face, fingers sliding against his neck. 

They break slightly apart, quiet and breathy, gazes meeting. Dean grins first, almost ducks his head shyly before Cas laughs, the sound absurdly infectious. Dean laughs back, smiling at Castiel's jaw, then he's chasing his mouth and Dean has the bright realization that this--the smiling, the laughing, the kissing--is happening now, and was happening before, and will happen again. Castiel hums at his mouth and Dean's hands hover for a second at Cas' hips before they settle there, thumbs hooking into the belt loops. 

Then Dean thinks, _Fuck it_ , drifts up to Cas' sides and lifts. Castiel responds by hooking his legs at Dean's waist, hands in his hair. 

"Move," Castiel says, hot against his neck, hips rolling forward once. Deans back up into Cas' door, which mercifully eases open. 

He closes it behind him, and they do more than just kiss. 

\----  


“So I added a thing to the list,” Castiel says later, curved against Dean’s spine.

“Yeah?” Dean kisses him with one hand in Cas' own, and the other reaching for the list on the bedside table. He reads through every crossed out item, and a couple more they never got around to doing, like sleigh rides and snowball fights. At the bottom, in Castiel’s neat, cursive handwriting is something that looks newly added:

MORE CHRISTMASES

“I know it’s a pretty daunting task,” Cas murmurs at the corner of his mouth.

“I think we can manage that,” Dean answers, smiling into the kiss.


End file.
